Sickness
by corneroffandom
Summary: Only days after he starts working with Neville, TJ comes down with something.


All in all, TJ is relatively healthy. His immune system is good, considering he's on the road so much, never really eager to stay in one place for very long. But sometimes, every now and again, his stamina crashes and he wakes up barely able to breathe, coughing so hard that he thinks he can be heard all the way down the street, congested and sneezing and all around miserable. Which happens barely a week after Neville notices him, gives him the option to better himself.

He lays in bed, dizzy and hating himself. The first opportunity he gets in _months_ and his body fails him like this. He gasps and rolls over, fighting to _not_ cough, his throat burning and eyes watering. Getting out of bed and forcing himself to shower helps but he's still hot, sluggish. He rubs his knuckles briskly against his own sternum, trying to distract himself from how hard it is to breathe.

He knows Neville will be on him as soon as he arrives at the arena, wanting to discuss strategy and whatever else, so he keeps his head down, keeping his face shadowed by the edges of his hoodie and walking steadily towards one of the locker rooms. The last thing he needs is to infect the Cruiserweight champion with... whatever this is, so he's determined just to stay long enough to do whatever needs to be done, and then leave to languish before the next event.

He's almost there, so eager to sit down and relax that he can almost taste it, when thick fingers grab his arm and spin him around, TJ's lips parting in shock as he locks eyes with Neville, taking in the anger crossing his pale face. Popping his earbuds out, TJ stares at him, listening to his ranting. "... been talking to you and you ignore me like some pathetic teenager, hiding in his hoodie and-"

TJ gives him a minute to rant himself out, then wrenches his arm free, glowering at Neville. He's struggling not to get too close, not wanting to share germs with the man, however tempting it might be with how Neville is acting right now. "Back off," he says tensely, working at keeping his voice steady. "I'm here. What do you want?"

Neville's jaw works as he stares at him, a strange look on his face. Letting the moment go, he motions into the locker room and TJ follows him. When he stays by the door, putting his boots on and taping his hands, Neville doesn't say anything, though his eyebrows quirk. Whatever Neville says about Aries, what he wants to do that evening, washes over TJ in a constant rumble. Neville's accent is oddly soothing to his frayed nerves and he presses his knuckles against his forehead, rubbing slowly to ease the headache that's been building there since he woke up. "Yeah," he finally says. "I'll go along with whatever you want to do."

Instead of looking pleased, Neville looks perplexed. "Then let's go."

It's not that intensive of a plan, TJ's the decoy and Neville wrecks Aries when his back is turned. TJ laughs dryly, his throat aching, as they escape back up the ramp, Neville sneering and looking pleased with how it all went while Aries struggles to stand in the middle of the ring, glowering up at them. TJ wonders, briefly, if Neville will want to hang out, discuss more strategy or maybe even go out and get something to eat, but his adrenaline crashes as soon as he's past gorilla and he immediately pushes those thoughts aside, quickly putting distance between them. "See you around," he says, relieved his voice remains strong as he leaves Neville behind to go into the locker room and change his clothes.

He feels disgusting but the thought of staying at the arena one moment longer even if just to shower eats at him so he leaves, walking unevenly to where his rental is parked. He groans and leans against the door, trying to breathe in and out steadily... just to fail and start coughing so hard that he doubles over, his full weight pressed against the car just to keep from falling over. "Ah shit," he groans, fingers trembling as he gets the door unlocked and sinks into the driver's side. How he's going to drive back to the hotel, he's not sure, his head is spinning and everything feels too loud, too bright, too...

A loud knock on the window startles him and he gasps, looking over blearily at Neville's glowering face. He rolls the window down and stares up at him as Neville leans in. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" he snaps, reaching in to unlock the door and forcing it open. "Get over, you fool." TJ scrambles, switching over to the passenger side before Neville gets in, and they stare at each other for a few tense moments before Neville reaches over and brushes his knuckles against TJ's forehead, frowning. "You're feverish. Are you really trying to kill yourself?"

TJ drops his head back and closes his eyes, feeling vulnerable and uncertain about this entire thing. "You're- you..." He licks his lips. "You're champion. We just started working together. I didn't want to start off by giving you whatever the hell this is."

Neville stares at him hard. "I never get sick. This alliance between us means nothing if you pass out behind the wheel. Next time there's a problem, I deserve to know." He grits his teeth. "I didn't agree to work with you so you would keep things from me."

TJ stares at him, the ebb and flow of his headache the only thing keeping him awake as Neville pulls out of the parking lot and starts to drive towards the hotel. "Sorry," he says. "I'm just... really foggy and all I could think about was how pissed you would be if you got sick right now... I don't get sick often but when I do, it really... really sucks..."

Neville doesn't say anything but TJ thinks, for a moment, that his expression softens. When they make it back to the hotel, Neville grabs both of their bags and follows slowly behind TJ as he trudges towards the hotel, each step taxing on his aching, exhausted body. How he makes it to the elevator, and then to the room, he doesn't remember. Collapsing into bed is just a muffled recollection of warm sheets against his aching body, pillows stacked under his head, and a brisk touch across his forehead. Neville murmurs something, tipping a cup against TJ's lips, and he feels as the medicine hits his system like a heavy fist, immediately leaving him drowsy and incapable of worrying about his illness and how close Neville has been to him the last half an hour.

He sighs and watches Neville walk over to the other bed, sprawling out over it and keeping his face tilted towards TJ even as he turns the TV on, keeping the volumn low considering the hour and their neighbors. Lulled by Neville's presence and the droning of the TV, TJ falls asleep, still congested, still feeling awful, but soothed by the memory of the touch against his forehead following him into his dreams.


End file.
